


The Assistant

by PhoenixSavant



Series: The Assistant [1]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Kidnapping, Mint Eye, Prologue, Prologue Bad End, hostage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 23:18:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15496992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixSavant/pseuds/PhoenixSavant
Summary: Unknown has taken you.  He says he wants an assistant.  Yet, you spend most of your time alone or ignored in the cell full of computers.





	The Assistant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mysterious_Prologue_Guy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysterious_Prologue_Guy/gifts).



How many days had it been? Was it three or four? Maybe it was ten. You weren’t sure anymore. Not having any light but that of the flickering computer monitors had stolen your sense of time.   
You weren’t uncomfortable. Your bed was soft, and you had plenty of blankets for warmth. A few books had been provided to entertain yourself with. The small bathroom in the corner allowed you privacy when needed, and a chance to shower. You even had two changes of clothing. Meals came at regular intervals, and the food was outstanding every time.  
The only thing you could have asked for was that your captor spend a few minutes more speaking with you when he was present. As far as that went, you wouldn’t complain if he were merely present. He’d been gone for a long time. Your lunch and dinner had both arrived since he left, and your eyes were beginning to itch from being open too long.  
It seemed he was not coming back tonight. You sighed softly and sat on the bed, resting a book on your crossed legs. This entire situation had begun because you used an unknown app on your phone, spoken to an unknown person, and then lied because you weren’t comfortable entering the home of a stranger uninvited. Your captor appeared, said something about someone having an assistant and making you one as well. Then you woke in this room.  
Your initial panic at being kidnapped had mostly faded. It wasn’t that you were happy with being locked away, god knew where with no contact with the world aside from the young man who had stolen you away. You’d just become somewhat resigned to it and relieved that he didn’t mistreat you. Things could have been much worse. Despite being gruff, your white-haired, mint-eyed abductor was not cruel, and that you could live with for now.  
You dropped the book on the small table by the bed and laid down, facing the wall. Between the isolation and the light of computers that ran programs you couldn’t understand, or reach to turn off, you weren’t sure about being able to sleep. Your toes fidgeted at the band around one ankle. You could reach anything in the room but those stupid screens. Even then, it was as if you were being teased because you could almost reach if you stretched. The power buttons on the monitors were all you wanted, just to turn them off and not have the glare.  
Maybe it was just as well that you couldn’t. There was no light in the room otherwise. Being locked in the dark would be much worse. You closed your eyes and pulled the blanket over your shoulder, wishing you understood what was going on and that you weren’t alone.  
You didn’t know what time it was when you woke, but the sound of a keyboard rattling away pulled you from strange dreams. You rolled over to see that it was he, the white-haired man who had brought you to this room. He hunched over his desk, first typing swiftly on one keyboard, then another. He muttered softly as he worked.   
“Hello,” you ventured, sleepily. “I didn’t hear you come in.”   
“It’s not a problem, this time. You remember the rule though, don’t you?”   
“When the door beeps three times, I should be standing and waiting for any instruction from you.”  
“Good. I don’t need you tonight.”   
You watched him work for a few more minutes. The frown of concentration you caught as he swiveled to check another monitor seemed to be weighted with stress. Well, he’d said he wanted an assistant. Maybe you could assist.  
Walking to the end of your tether, you stood behind his chair. “Is there anything I can do to help?” you asked.   
“I said I don’t need you,” he answered gruffly.  
“If he doesn’t need me, why did he bring me here?” you wondered. As you watched him work, you noticed how hunched his shoulders were. That couldn’t be good. Your fingers stretched forward, timidly settling to begin rubbing the tense muscles.   
He tensed at your touch and then leaned forward. “What are you doing?”  
“You look tense. I’m going to rub your shoulders.”   
“What do you want?”   
“Huh?”   
“What do you want? You can just tell me. You don’t have to make up ways to be nice.”   
That made you pause, though you didn’t withdraw your touch. Instead, you began rubbing small circles with your thumbs as you thought about how to respond. Finally, you answered, “I want to rub your shoulders. You said I was going to be your assistant, but you haven’t given me any tasks. Well, at least this way I can help you, right?”   
“Ha! You actually want to be my assistant?”   
“Well, I’m kind of stuck here. At least being an actual assistant would give me something to do.”   
He turned, fixing you with his blue-green stare. “So you’re bored and want to find something to do.” He shrugged away your hands. “Leave me alone. I have work to do.”   
“That isn’t…”   
“Go away. Leave me alone,” he growled.  
You sighed and stepped back a half pace. Why was he distrustful of you? Shouldn’t that be the other way around? Undeterred, you placed your hands back on his shoulders and began to rub them lightly.   
“Seriously?” he asked, his voice still sounding grumpy. “Fine, at least put some pressure into it.”  
You smiled and increased the pressure as you worked at his muscles. There were so many knots that your hands were exhausted before half of them were worked out. You tried to keep going but eventually had to give in.  
“I’m sorry, my hands are too tired now.”  
“Hm. I see.” He turned and looked up at you, his eyes intense. “Go sit on your bed,” he instructed.  
“I’m sorry I couldn’t do…” you began.   
He huffed in annoyance. “What good is an assistant if she doesn’t do as she’s told?” he challenged. “Go sit on your bed!”   
You retreated to the designated location, surprised to see that he’d followed you. He sat beside you and took your hand. Silently, he began massaging your palm with his thumb. It felt like heaven, as the pad of his thumb stroked blood flow back into the overworked muscles of your hand. When he pulled his fingers up your own digits, the relief flooded all the way into your shoulders. Unbidden, a yawn took over.  
“Tired?”  
“A little, I guess.”   
“Hm. Lay down.”  
You stretched out on the bed, and he pulled a blanket over you. When he lifted the edge of the blanket and slid in with you, you stiffened. What did he have in mind for you as an assistant, anyway?   
“I’m tired too. Let’s get some rest for a little bit. I finally have time.” His arms closed around you, pulling your head onto his chest. “Hm, yes, like this.”


End file.
